


A Future AllMother

by bluetoast



Series: The Jotun and the Widower [5]
Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Sif, Cute Kids, F/M, Loki Needs a Hug, Oblivious Thor, Sif needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4900195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sif loves her children; even her two stepdaughters. She just wishes her husband could start being more of a parent, among other things.  Written for HC_Bingo. Prompt: Humilation</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Future AllMother

Sif had not exactly determined how she would bring up her situation with Thor with Loki. To begin with, she didn't want to come across as a incapable or unwilling wife. She was more than happy to share a bed with her husband, she just wished she could enjoy it more – and if possible, actually make Thor desire her more – instead of it just being a 'duty', she wanted it to be something she looked forward to and longed for. 

Of course, there was the rather upsetting fact that she suspected Thor had no desire for intimacy with her with any regularity. Sif wasn't even certain how often was 'normal' for married couples to have sex. Certainly, it had to be more than once a month. When Loki still lived in the palace, Thor had gone to the jotun's bed no less than four times a week; that she knew about. For all she was aware, it could have been _daily_. Sometimes, more than once. When she had married Thor, she hadn't protested the presence of a 'third' person in the marriage, but now that Loki was not here, it seemed only natural that she and Thor should have grown as a couple. 

Instead, her husband had found his solace in the bed of some Midgardian woman and had not just spurned his wife, but his mistress as well.

Sif felt that Loki most likely accepted the fact; but harbored some anger towards the man for neglecting his daughters. To hell with some anger, if she were Loki, she would be downright furious.

Right now, said husband was snoring next to her, after a night out with his friends. She knew that Volstagg hadn't been with them, because that man was at home, being a _father_ and helping his wife out, as both of his children were sick with colds and while the man may eat nearly his own weight of meat on a weekly basis and drink half of it in mead, the man was a good parent. It almost would have been easier if she had known Thor had gone to spend the night at Loki's – to see his daughters, at the very least. 

Perhaps the best thing to do would be to invite Loki to come to tea next week; the same day Mirjam had her riding lesson with Vakur. It was too short of a notice for him to come today. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, feeling empty. She had been asleep when Thor stumbled into their bed, but she had awoken several times to his snores – and heard him murmur names in his sleep; first Loki, then Jane – and finally, Sif. The only name she wanted to hear from him in this bed was hers. She was owed that at least. While she knew one couldn't control their dreams, she had the right to be hurt. Perhaps if she had not been last, it would not have hurt the way it did.

She rose from the bed and went into the bathing chamber, resolved that one, she was going to find a way to keep her husband out of any bed but the one they shared, and two, she was going to get Thor to start paying attention to all of his children. She doubted if the great idiot even knew that Röskva was sitting up already.

*  
The area where Loki lived was alive with activity, the citizens preparing for the impending Yule, Sif was glad that she'd elected to ride her horse to pick up Mirjam, rather than take a carriage. Here, in the part of Asgard where the artisans and guild-leaders lived, their decorations of fairy-lights, brilliantly colored lanterns, and banners made the ones at the palace seem almost gaudy and overdone. Everyone here seemed happy and were calling out greetings to one another. Hel, even the guards, in their grand armor, were caught up in the spirit. The familiar blue and gray awnings over the jotun's front windows were freshly cleaned, and a group of boys, dismissed from their lessons, were cleaning all the windows on the first level of the street. She dismounted her horse and tied the reigns around the hitching post, and the nearest guard went serious and came to stand next to it.

“Your grace.” He inclined his head.

She nodded in acknowledgment and then went to the door of Loki's house, knocking once, as she knew the jotun didn't open up his shop until noon. 

Ursa answered the door, smiling. “Good morning, your grace.” She stepped aside to let her in.

“Good morning, Ursa.” She returned the smile. “I know, I'm early.”

“It's fine. Thankfully, we remembered the lesson time had changed, due to the holiday.” There was something in her tone that concerned her. “Mirjam is almost ready.” They went into the kitchen and she caught sight of Loki, chopping potatoes. 

“Good morrow, Lady Sif.” The jotun looked up, smiling. “How are you today?”

“I am well.” She came over to him. “Next week, I would like you to come for tea when Mirjam has her lesson.” She kept her expression neutral. “Please.” 

He gave her a look that told her that he wasn't fooled. “Does this have something to do with a certain clueless prince and an even more likely clueless Midgardian woman?”

“Partially.” She stiffened. “And also for the fact that the Allmother should get to see both of her granddaughters.” 

“Agreed.” He smiled. “I think the shop can be closed for one afternoon.” He nodded towards the stairs. “You can go upstairs and see if Mirjam is ready. I believe Ísleikur is helping her with her hair.” 

She nodded and headed for the girl's room, wondering if Loki remembered she hadn't met Ísleikur yet. She'd heard Mirjam talk about him several times, and from the girl's description, you would think the man hung the stars in the sky. She climbed to the top of the house and paused outside the door as she heard the conversation within, augmented with the sound of a rattle. 

“Where did you learn to braid hair, Mister Ísleikur?” Mirjam's voice reached her first.

“I have three younger sisters. Since I was the youngest boy, my mother had me help her in the mornings to get them ready.” A man's voice, amused and gentle. “Not pulling to hard, am I?”

“No, it's fine.” She giggled. “Are you going to braid Röskva's hair too?”

“I don't think she'd sit still long enough.” He laughed. “Haven't you noticed that your mother only trims her fingernails when she's sleeping?”

“I did, but I thought that was because it was the only time mama had to do it.” She answered and Sif pushed open the door. “Good morrow, Auntie Sif!” She beamed up at her from her seat. Kneeling behind her chair was a man, close to Thor's age, perhaps older, with brown hair and brown eyes, and while his skin was Æsir cream, his features had traces of a light elf's sharpness. “This is my friend, Mister Ísleikur.” 

“Your grace.” The man nodded and then looked slightly abashed as he resumed braiding Mirjam's hair. “Forgive me from rising, but I fear this might unravel if I let go.” He nodded at his work.

“It's perfectly fine, and I understand.” She turned to Röskva, who was had dropped her rattle and was holding her arms up towards her. “I know that word too.” She went and scooped the girl up, grinning as the babe planted a kiss on her cheek. “Oh, and good morrow to you.” 

“Is Papa going to be at the lesson?” Mirjam interjected. “He was supposed to be there last week and he didn't come. So he should be here today, right?”

“I don't know, sweetie.” She gave the girl a half smile and saw the man frown, only for a moment – but she was glad of it. Clearly, if Loki's friend disapproved of Thor's treatment of the girls, then she already liked him all the more for it. “But since I know the court just went into recess yesterday, as did the privy council, he best come up with an extremely good reason if he _does_ miss it.” She felt Röskva brush her fingers against the mail of her shirt, and the tips of her fingers against her skin, just as her sister used to do.

“I'm certain he'll be there, Mirjam.” Ísleikur's voice was rather bright, but she could tell that he was lying, just as she had been. “I don't think he has to supervise the cooking of the Yule Feast.” 

Sif snorted in her laughter and adjusted the babe on her hip. “I don't think there would be much of a feast left if he did.” 

“All right.” the man tied a leather band around the end of Mirjam's braid, then picked up a length of ribbon and tied a bow over the fastening. “There you are, ready to go.” He was about to stand up when the girl jumped up and hugged him around the neck before he could and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you!” She let go and Sif could see the man blushing as he stood. “Will you still be here when I get home?”

“Since I'm watching your sister, I think so.” He looked at Sif and then held his arms out for the babe, who had abandoned her interest in the mail and was now playing with one of the thin braids that had, until she'd tugged it free, had been behind her ear. “All right, you little troublemaker, come here.” 

Sif handed the girl over, who instantly curled her arms around the man's neck, in complete trust that quite frankly, would cause a hurricane if Thor was here to see it. “Good day to you, Ísleikur.” 

“Wave bye-bye?” the man looked down at the babe and she managed a tiny wave. “Smart girl.” He kissed her forehead.

“Bye!” Mirjam waved and took Sif's hand as they went back downstairs. “I like Mister Ísleikur. I'm glad he's my friend.”

“I think he's a good man.” She replied as they came to the bottom of the stairs. “I'm glad I met him.”

“Bye mama!” The girl broke her grip and ran over to hug her mother. “I know, mind my manners.”

Loki chuckled and hugged his daughter in return. “I know you will.” He looked up. “Would it be too difficult if she had lunch before she came home?”

“Not at all.” Sif replied, smiling as the girl came back. “I know, don't let the Allmother give her too many sweets.”

The jotun gave her a look. “Don't tell me you don't tell her the same about Vakur.” 

She laughed and took Mirjam's hand again. “I know all to well.” They went out into the shop. “Good day, Ursa.”

“Good day, your grace.” the dark elf replied from where she was loading the bins of ice cream into the glass case. “The door can remain unlocked, we're about ready in here.”

She nodded in response and she and Mirjam went outside, and before they were even down the block, the girl had already started extolling her friend, Mister Ísleikur and Sif didn't know which she wanted more; for Thor to hear it – or for the man himself to know that his little girl admired him so. She made a mental note that it was probably best if she told Mirjam not to talk about her friend in front of her father; Thor might just do something unforgivable, like have the man executed for the sake of his own pride.

Quite honestly, she would rather have Thor witness the way his daughters clung to a man who wasn't their father in the very way they should cling to him.

*  
“Mama, why can't Mirjam and Röskva come to our Yule feast? They're my sisters.” Vakur pouted. “Or at least Mirjam, since Röskva is still a baby.” The boy looked up at his mother, his blue eyes bright. “It's not fair.” 

Sif gave her son a tired smile. Just as she expected, Thor had not been at the riding lesson, and both of his children had been disappointed. Her son had been even more disappointed when Mirjam had gone home after lunch, instead of staying for the rest of the afternoon. “I would rather see them here too, along with Loki. But you know that Loki and Ursa cannot close their shop at this time. Not when the city is full of people and they need to earn money.” 

He didn't loose his disapproving look. “Miri should be allowed to come, at least. I know I just saw her at riding lessons, but she's my sister and I want to see her more than once a week.” He folded his arms. “Can't we just give Mister Loki and Miss Ursa some money so they can close the shop for the night and come?”

She chuckled and smoothed down his hair, kissing the top of his head. “Loki's too proud for that.” She thought for a moment then slowly smiled. “What if we arranged for a small, family party after the big feast? A few days afterward? We'll invite all four of them to come and stay with us for dinner and overnight, and then we'll have breakfast together before they go back to their house.”

Vakur grinned. “When? Are you going to make sure Papa knows he has to be there?”

“Oh, I definitely will make certain of that. I'll have your grandmother keep him informed and make certain he's here. Or he'll never hear the end of it until you're his age.” She smiled. “Now, you won't object to sharing the nursery with both of the girls, will you? Even Röskva, who is still a baby and there's no way of knowing if she'll sleep straight through the night?”

He shook his head. “I like my sisters. I wish they lived here.” He frowned, biting his lip. “Mama, why don't you and Papa have another baby?”

“We will, eventually.” She frowned, wondering what had prompted such a question. “Vakur, do you know where babies come from?”

“I know where ponies come from.” He looked up her, his face completely innocent. “I know that because I asked, and Mirjam was with me. But when I asked the stable-master where babies come from, he refused to tell me. Mirjam told me it was probably the same way we get ponies because we're both mammals. Then she had to tell me what mammals were because I didn't know.” He scrunched his nose. “I want to go to Mirjam's school. She's only a year older than me and knows way more than I do.” 

Sif openly laughed. “Your sister is too much at times. And you'll have a tutor soon enough, and when that day comes, it's almost no time to play.”

“It can't be the whole day, Miri only goes to school half a day, and anyway, school's out for the holiday.” He huffed and turned back to his blocks.

She nodded towards the pile she'd found him playing with when she'd come into the nursery. “What are you building today?”

“A city.” He handed her a block. “Will you help me?”

“Of course.” She sat down on the brightly colored rug and pulled another block towards her. “What should I build?” She tapped his nose. “Should I make the barracks or the shops?”

“Both!” The boy grinned and turned to focus on his work.

*

“Sif, you are going to stare a hole through that flagon if you are not careful.” Frigga's voice was gentle as she called from the other side of the tea table, her tone seemed more concerned than was necessary.

“Apologies.” Sif shook her head to clear it and took a sip of wine and let out a sigh as the scents of an impending feast through the window. Under the smells of roasting meats and other savories, was a fresher, crisper scent; the kind that foretold of impending snow. “What were you saying, again?” she did her best to look contrite. 

The All-Mother laughed. “I haven't said anything, Sif. You have been staring into your drink so long, I was starting to become worried. I didn't want to disturb you exactly, but I have noticed you doing it several times in recent days. Is something wrong?”

Sif held back the bitter laugh that wanted to spring from her lips. Was anything _wrong_? Things were beyond wrong when your husband would rather sleep with a human female than his wife or his mistress, the same man was neglecting all three of his children and you had no idea how to fix the situation. “I don't know. I have been rather tired lately, and I have also come to the conclusion that I have no idea how to relate to my handmaidens. With the possible exception of Sigyn.”

Frigga laughed in response and Sif could tell that she wasn't fooled. It wasn't exactly a lie about the handmaidens; it just wasn't what was bothering her right _now_. She also couldn't quite give a damn about relating to the lot of those vapid women who fussed over her dress and hid disapproving looks when she chose to wear her armor instead of a dress. Sigyn was the exception and she'd caught the girl rolling her eyes at something stupid another maid had said several times. “Oh Sif.” The queen began, “the problem you have is that most of the women are jealous of you. There were a great many heartbroken girls and women the day you and Thor became engaged. Even more when you were married.”

“It was something that we had no control over.” She responded, taking another sip of wine, then picked up a cracker and smeared some brie on it. Say what you would about Midgard, they had some absolutely wonderful cheeses.

“Another valid point. I just think they were all hoping they would be chosen instead.” She took a drink from her own goblet.

“I believe if he had any say in the matter, or any sense, Thor would have married Loki.” She replied, in perfect honesty and shaking her head. “Not that I think he would do so now. And I have a feeling that Loki would have refused him if asked today.” 

Frigga frowned. “Is something else troubling you, Sif?”

She narrowed her eyes at the woman. “You know perfectly well what your son is up to.” She didn't mean to sound so harsh, but damn it all, she was _pissed_ and someone needed to hear it. She was also tired of pretending Thor's actions didn't bother her. If he slept with Loki and paid attention to the jotun and his children, she could keep her temper. In fact, she would rejoice if that was the problem. Damn it all, Loki would probably be more than willing to help her and Thor to share a bed more often for some respite. She also wouldn't put it past Thor to suggest that the _three_ of them share a bed. 

“That Midgardian woman.” Frigga sighed. “Jane, I believe she is called. I do not approve of my son's actions either. I have spoken to him of his folly, but I believe we both know how thick-headed Thor is.”

Sif snorted. “The only ones who don't know are himself and the Allfather.” She stuffed the cracker into her mouth.

She laughed again. “A fair assessment.” She cleared her throat and took another drink. “We cannot expect Thor to see reason on his own. Perhaps the woman shall end it soon. Certainly, with as short as her life will be, she cannot keep waiting for Thor to return to her, nor can she expect to have any sort of life with him. She will be dead before the end of the current century. A mere heartbeat of time for us. I loathe to think what would happen if Jane bore him a child.”

“The labor would kill her, for certain.” She blanched at the thought. “Even if it didn't, the babe would scarcely be out of infancy when she eventually died of old age. I do not think it will happen, however.”

“We can only hope.” Frigga took another drink of wine, and then did what all noble women were experts at. She changed the subject. “I do believe, however, that you are right about having a strong beverage in place of tea on occasion. Not to mention that fruit, cheese and crackers are a welcome change from cakes. Wherever did you get such an idea?”

She raised her wine in response. “From that Stark fellow. In many places on Midgard, Tea has been replaced by something called Happy Hour.” She took another sip from her goblet, a plan already forming in her mind – and she had a feeling that Loki would be more than happy to help her.

*  
Sif's day ended much as it began. She tucked her pillow under her chin, listening to Thor in the bath. He had claimed that he had forgotten the time of the riding lesson, but she felt that a poor excuse. She thought back to Loki's home and the presence of Ísleikur being there before the shop opened. She had asked the jotun about it, and stated that the man had stopped by the previous evening, and had helped with the dishes. At some point, Loki had nearly collapsed and had been sent to bed, and judging the from the fact that he had discovered the man sleeping in the kitchen this morning, he had not gone home. The man had then volunteered to watch the girls while Loki and Ursa worked. 

Clearly, Ísleikur Petarson was someone that she already admired and wanted to remain in Loki's and the girls lives. But no one could be that perfect. Loathe as she was to do it, she owed it to her stepdaughters and their mother to do a little digging. There was most likely nothing to be found, but she would rather search and find nothing, then not look and have it end in disaster.

“You're quiet.” Thor's voice came from behind her. “I told you that I am sorry about the riding lesson.”

“You need to take that statement to Vakur and Mirjam, not me.” She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. “We're going to have a small celebration for the Yule next week, just the family, including Loki and the girls.” 

“That will be nice.” He let out a breath. “I can't imagine how big Röskva has gotten.” 

“You have nothing planned tomorrow until the evening. You could go and see the girls. I'm certain they would be delighted to see their father.” She heard him shift in the bed and sit up. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” He replied, and she felt his hand brush against the side of her head, his fingertips making contact with her ear, and a tiny shiver went down her back. “Perhaps I will go see the girls tomorrow, before lunch.” He laid back down in the bed, his arm coming to settle over her waist and his lips pressed against the back of her neck. 

Sif didn't know if she wanted to shove him away or let him continue, but her dilemma was solved for itself when she heard Thor start to snore softly. She let out another sigh, hoping that if Thor did go see the girls tomorrow, Ísleikur would not be there, for his own safety. Perhaps she would have him take Vakur with him; she could trust her husband to keep his temper if his son was with him; and if not, he would do the same around Mirjam. She smirked to herself, rather wishing that she could witness the absolute fit that Röskva would throw when he tried to hold her.


End file.
